Coming Up for Air

The water flows around the rocks and pebbles.
No fight.
No trying to move the rock.
Just flowing, peacefully, around the rocks and pebbles.

So -
I'm going to try to be the river.
Flowing peacefully around those *friggen* rocks and pebbles.
I'm going to try to remember
and really believe that I don't always know best
and that everything is perfect as it is.
I am going to try to let go of my ideas of what's best
and accept what is infront of me and celebrate in spite of myself too.

I'll just go and print the bolded-italic words up there
and stick them to every surface in my house
remind myself incase I forget and want to cry...

WORD

Every now and again
I read something and the words speak to me
they literally pull me out of myself
and demand that I awaken from my subconscious-mind and take them in.

These kinds of words are like water,
replenishing my internal reserves,
fighting against any famine that I may find myself in.

These kinds of words are meaningless on their own,
but when strung together,
they leap out and embrace me
urging me to remember
why I'm here and what I'm trying to do.

Words have always had that effect on me,
and these are no different:
The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for.
The most you can do is live inside that hope,
running down its hallways,
touching the walls on both sides.

Addicted

once the habit start,
it is hard to stop it.
it is a hard habit to break.
it is highly addictive.
because i think hard to do so.
please go away from me.
you are the one who killing me all the time.
i hate you.
i cant stop quit you.
may i know how am i going to break it?